


Your Secret Admirer

by TheFightingBull



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Caring Harvey Bullock, Harvey Bullock is Pleasantly Confused, It was a gift for him so he couldn't beta, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason is a Wayne, Let's make this a new thing people!, M/M, Mentions of abuse accusations, Not Beta Read, People are Assholes, Rare Pairings, Valentine's Day, Yeah I know It's August, but it was written in February I swear, just mentions, like really fucking rare, no actual abuse, obnoxious tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25725505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull
Summary: Harvey Bullock of all people just got a Valentine's Day Card. What was this? The fifth fucking grade?
Relationships: Harvey Bullock & Jason Todd, Harvey Bullock/Jason Todd
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	Your Secret Admirer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gwydionx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwydionx/gifts).



The morning started off as it usually did for Harvey when he worked the morning shift. He brought his coffee in and took a seat at his desk. He just needed to wake his ass up. He wasn’t supposed to be on nights last night, and he wasn't, but there was a weird ass vigilante running around that just happened to be beating the hell out of someone on the fire escape across from Harvey’s own balcony.

The red helmeted freak stopped, mid-beating, to _wave_ at him!

He fucking hated capes as it was but that new guy? He had some nerve on him. Still, Harvey refused to get involved beyond threatening to call the cops. The guy had actually laughed. “Aren’t _you_ the cops?”

“Not when I’m off duty,”

“See that, it’s why I love Gotham,” The helmeted man told his victim. “It never changes. Detective Bullock is never on duty one second longer than it takes for him to clock out.”

Harvey had snarled something as he flipped the vigilante off and then closed his patio door and tried to get back to bed. 

Sitting as his desk and glaring down into his coffee, he still couldn’t believe some punk in a mask had the nerve to judge him!

“Good morning, Detective Bullock. Long night?”

Harvey looked up to see Jason Wayne, newest member of the Gotham City Police Department and fresh outta the police academy. The kid was a bit of a freak according to most of the force that had gotten to know him, but Harvey didn’t think he was _that_ bad, which was saying something since Harvey didn’t really like anybody.

Jason Wayne was Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. He had been adopted when he was only eleven years old and had been something of a media darling most of his life, just like Richard Grayson. Though, it was said that Dick wasn’t considered Bruce’s son, but rather a kid brother. Either way, all three were constantly in the news until something terrible happened to Jason back when he was a teen.

There was some kind of motorcycle wreck that Jason had been involved. It left him with wicked scars on his face and a strange white strip in the front of his black curly hair where he’d nearly been scalped. One scar ran from the corner of his right eye all the way down to his jaw. On that same side of his face was a scar very much like a Glasgow smile stretching from his lip, intersecting the other scar, and ending just before his ear.

Rumor had it that the kid was covered in all kinds of scars, but Harvey didn’t really see how that mattered. Besides, it wasn’t Wayne’s looks that unnerved their co-workers. It wasn’t even the kid’s fortune. It was Jason’s odd behavior.

He had a way of moving that was more like stalking. He was six feet even and weighed over two-hundred pounds and yet he moved as silently as a great jungle cat. Everyone in the precinct accused him of sneaking up on them and several of the women claimed that he was incapable of blinking and looked dead-eyed more often than not. One officer that had originally been partnered with Jason insisted that he growled like a damned animal.

“Hey Officer Wayne,” he greeted politely. “Got any big plans for Valentine’s Day?’

Jason rolled his teal blue eyes, but there was a hint at a smile tugging at the scarred side of his lips.

“What do you need, Officer?” Harvey asked. He wasn’t sure why, but Jason really seemed to gravitate toward him anytime they were in the same building or at a crime scene.

A quick shake of the head and Jason took off toward some newbie that was assigned to ride with him.

“He’ll never last,” Harvey looked up to see Jordan Franklin, his own new partner. Franklin was a new detective and Harvey was made responsible for showing him the ropes. “Look at him.”

Harvey snorted. “What about him?”

“Come on, Bullock. We’ll be locking him up one day. You mark my words,” Franklin insisted. “It’s always the freaks that go nuts.”

“Nah, even if you were right and he does snap and kill everyone commenting on his appearance, he’s a Wayne. He’s got enough lawyers to keep him from getting locked up,” Harvey laughed loudly.

On purpose.

Jason was far enough away that he might not have heard, but Harvey could tell he had. Jason’s back straightened the moment Harvey started talking, like he was tuned in on anything Harvey said. Honestly, Bullock hoped so. He didn’t want the kid blindsided by bullshit for some reason.

“Fuck you, you did that on purpose,” Franklin accused.

“Then quit being a dick, we’re all on the same side here,” he said.

He took a sip of his coffee as he watched several of his colleagues moving about. They were all waiting on orders, lab results, phone calls, interrogations, lawyers, and who knew what else.

“Here Bullock, this one’s for you,” a soft feminine voice smiled.

“Oh fuck, I forgot about this shit,” He grumbled as he took the offered bright pink envelope. It was tiny. Only the size of a four by six photo.

Harvey hated Valentine’s Day if for no other reason than that in Gotham, it usually meant some sick fuck was going to do something twisted. He grabbed a gas mask and put it on. His young partner stared at him incredulously while across the way Jason Wayne laughed, startling several of their colleagues.

Once the gas mask was secure, he opened it.

“Like anyone wants to poison you, Bullock, you’re not that important,” his poker buddy George Guthrie teased from his own desk.

“You kidding?” Michelle Holly, George’s partner, snickered. “Who _wouldn’t_ want to poison Bullock?”

“You really gonna keep your mask on for a Valentine’s Day card?” Franklin sneered.

“Yep,” Harvey nodded. “Been working Gotham long enough to know better, Kid. Hopefully you live long enough to pick up on theses little tricks of the trade.”

He pulled out a card. It was red with white lettering that said quite simply “Happy Valentine’s Day” on the front in a pretty font. When he opened it, the pre-printed text said nothing out of the ordinary. _All the best on the most romantic day of the year!_ But the tiny, neat, and cursive writing beneath it was a lot more personal.

 _“There are few people whom I really love, and fewer still whom I think well. But you have changed that for me._ _I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. – Your Secret Admirer”_

Harvey frowned as he set the card down and removed the mask.

His heart was beating too hard and too fast. The words were intense and frightening… _if_ they were real. Which of course was impossible. He felt his face redden and wondered who was trying to prank him. Who wanted to humiliate and hurt him? He glared up at his partner, immediately suspecting him. Harvey almost wished the card had been poisoned by Joker or sabotaged by Poison Ivy.

“Nice job, shithead, who’d you get to write it?” Harvey demanded as he looked up at Franklin.

“What?”

“You heard me, which of the women did you get to write this card?” He asked again.

Jordan Franklin shook his head. “Honestly, Bullock, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

To be fair he looked sincere. Harvey rolled his eyes. He’d figure it out later. He tossed the card in his desk drawer and stood up with his coffee mug. “Let’s get going, Franklin, we’ve got a lot of work to do on the robbery.”

* * *

Harvey stared at the card during his lunch break. He and Franklin brough their food back to the station since they were waiting on some evidence and had more paperwork to get done. He couldn’t deny the words were pretty and if he truly inspired that type of feeling in a woman, he’d certainly like to know who it was.

Still, something was vaguely familiar about the words. He pulled up google on his phone and started with the first sentence. Immediately he had several thousand results. The first page of said results all indicated that it was a quote from the book Pride and Prejudice by the main character Elizabeth Bennet. The original quote was much longer and had been cut quite a bit.

The next line must have been original because google didn’t pick up on it. The third line was a quote by Fitzwilliam Darcy of the same book, and the fourth was a separate quote by the same character.

“Pride and Prejudice, anyone know it?” Harvey practically shouted.

Michelle immediately raised her hand along with three other women. One was a sergeant; the others were beat cops. All four women flocked immediately to his desk.

“I got this card, any of you ladies behind it?” he asked, knowing damned well it hadn’t come from any of them. Or at least, he assumed as much. Michelle tolerated him, but the other three didn’t like him even a little bit. They thought he was a slob.

“Wow, looks like you got one of the crazy ones, Bullock,” Michelle tutted.

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

“Only lonely old women are this obsessed with a Victorian era novel that basically tears down every feminist belief we hold dear,” one of the younger officers giggled.

“As opposed to the co-dependent, abusive and manipulative trash you enjoyed in the Twilight novels, Martinez?” Jason’s voice startled Harvey and all four women.

“Someone needs to put a damned cat bell on him,” the woman that Jason scolded hissed.

“What do you know about Twilight, Wayne?” Michelle smiled and Harvey noticed the way she tried hard not to cringe at Jason’s sudden appearance.

“Twilight was meant for vapid, narcissistic teenagers,” Jason Wayne answered calmly.

“All I know, is that whoever is trying to woo you, Bullock, chose three of the most romantic and endearing lines that come from that story. I don’t think you’re being pranked or stalked.” Michelle offered kindly.

Harvey would almost think it was Michelle except for the fact the he knew she was a happily married woman to another woman. There was no chance it was her. Unless she was trying to be kind. Or worse, she could be trying to stir up drama. It wasn’t unlike Michelle to create drama when she got bored. She was just one of those people who couldn’t handle being bored.

“Thanks, Michelle, but I have a hard time believing that considering I don’t know anyone interested in me. Means my admirer must be stalking me.”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s a grocery store clerk or one of those battered women you interviewed a few days ago?”

“Bullock!” He was saved from further discussion as the captain called him into his office. “Phone call!”

* * *

When he returned, Harvey was at a loss. He and Franklin solved the robbery, or at least enough to arrest and pass the case up to the D.A.’s office. But for some reason the Valentine plagued his thoughts. It was like a cancer. Slow and growing.

Harvey hated being pranked.

It was probably why he hated all the stupid villains of Gotham. The Joker, Two-Face, Harley Quinn, and the countless other freaks that like to cause pain for their own sick amusement. He got into his apartment and took out a beer before walking over to his couch and plopping down.

Sitting on his TV stand were two large vases full of red roses.

He jumped to his feet and pulled his gun. Someone had broken into his apartment.

“Relax, Detective,” he turned to see the Red Hood standing in the shadows of his apartment.

“You?” Harvey scoffed.

“Me,” The Red Hood snickered and came forward, his black gloved hands raised to show he had nothing in them. “I’ve always liked you, Bullock.”

“You’re gay?” Harvey blurted in surprise.

“All my life,” Hood nodded.

“You know I’m not, right?”

“It’s not my place to argue with you about your sexuality, Detective,” The man’s modulated voice sounded husky and deep. “But, if you ever decide to explore, I hope you’ll think of me first.”

“Please,” Harvey growled. “You’re just another masked freak. A menace to this city who is too afraid to risk your life and your identity to protect her. You’re a coward, just like all of you masked freaks.”

“A coward that saved your life back when I only covered my eyes and ran around in a fucking cape,” Red Hood barked as he dropped his hands.

Harvey nearly choked at the revelation. “Wait, you what?”

“You heard me, Detective,” The Red Hood said.

“Really, you’re telling me that you used to be a Robin?” Harvey asked. Only one caped figure had ever saved his life. Robin performed CPR on him when he inhaled some kind of toxin from one of Poison Ivy’s plants and his heart stopped.

“I’m telling you that I saved your life,” The Red Hood shrugged. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The man walked out of the apartment and left Harvey alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t believe it. A young man, one far too young for him, was claiming he loved him. Loved _him_. Harvey Bullock? No. It couldn’t be.

There was no way.

“But why?” he asked aloud.

But the more important question remained unvoiced. How did Harvey _feel_ about it?

* * *

When Harvey arrived for work the next morning, he saw Jason Wayne sitting off by himself near the detective’s desks. The young man was seated in a folding chair, feet up on a desk, Franklin’s to be precise, with mud dripping from the soles. Jason was reading a book with a destroyed cover, his eyes tracking back and forth as he read line by line.

“Hey, Wayne,” he greeted.

“Bullock,” Jason turned a page.

“You doing alright, Kid?” he asked, pointing at the mess his boots were making on Franklin’s desk.

Jason smiled, again on the same right side that he always did as the scar tissue struggled to accommodate the muscle movement. “Don’t you worry about me, Bullock, I can fight my own battles.”

“Shouldn’t have to fight battles in the precinct, Kid, we fight enough of them out there,” Harvey sighed as he took a seat at his own desk. “We don’t need that shit in here.”

“I think they’d like me better if I was more like Dick,” Jason snickered as he turned another page. “Pretty boy with a smile and a stupid joke. Instead they just see a fucked-up kid from the streets, and it makes them uncomfortable. They thought I was rabid even back then, and now I look it.”

“You don’t look bad,” Harvey denied. “It’s just a couple of scars.”

“Despite rumors to the contrary, chicks and dicks _don’t_ dig scars,” Jason shrugged.

“Chicks and dicks?” Harvey laughed. “I didn’t know you were bisexual.”

“I’m not,” Jason shook his head.

“But you said…” Harvey squinted as he frowned. “Are you telling me you’re gay?”

“All my life,” Jason shrugged.

The deja-vu exploded in his mind as Harvey frowned. Where had he… But when did…? He shook his head trying to get his memories straight. He didn’t care what anyone said he was sure he had that exact conversation once before. But it wasn’t with Jason it was with…

Harvey stared incredulously.

Jason stared up at him and winked his scarred eye. “Guess I’m not the coward you thought I was, eh Bullock?”

The younger cop dropped his feet off the desk and then stood to his height and walked over casually. Jason leaned close to Harvey’s ear. “I meant what I said, if you ever change your mind, I’m the first in line.”


End file.
